


House of Yes

by rivkat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Eight crazy nights, Episode Related, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkat/pseuds/rivkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For justabi, who wanted: Smith/Wesson fic, only not the like *waves hands* sanitized incestless happy wincest stuff. I want House of Yes Wesson family dynamics, because seriously I always wanted Jo to actually be their sister and want Dean like burning anyway, and the irony of boyfriend Sam being horrified by wessoncest would make my life complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of Yes

**Author's Note:**

> AU in that Sam and Dean stay mindwiped for a while.

In retrospect, Sam should have known that meeting the Smith family was not going to go well when Dean’s little sister spared him not a glance before she for-real _climbed_ up Dean, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their cheeks together. Dean just closed his eyes (and was he breathing in her smell, would he do that in public? Sam was never sure; his memory was not to be relied on) and hugged her right back, twisting back and forth a little, almost like he was rocking her.

Then somehow Sam was shuffled into the back seat of the rental, even though he was practically taller than Dean and Jo stacked together, and Jo commisserated with Dean about his fear of flying all the way to the Smith house. The little in-jokes and half-told stories were way too frequent to be anything but deliberate on Jo’s part. Dean looked a little guilty when he caught Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, but he kept on talking to Jo.

And Sam felt bad when he thought about it: Dean hadn’t seen his family in nearly a year, and he was coming home to explain how he’d left his Stanford education and his high-powered, high-paying job to travel the country with his slacker boyfriend, all of which were pretty big changes. They weren’t going to explain the hunting ghosts part, but that absence of rationale was likely to make the conversation even more stilted. Dean could use all the goodwill he could get, including from playing ‘how it used to be’ with his sister.

Dinner went better than he’d feared. Ellen Smith obviously suspected that Sam was corrupting her little boy beyond the whole gay sex thing, but she was polite, and Bobby—Sam quickly learned he was serious about not being called Mr. Smith—was nearly friendly, once he’d shown Sam his gun collection. Jo was mostly silent, picking at her food and snapping at Ellen when she asked her daughter about how college was going. Sam filled the silence by talking about his own background and telling a couple of innocuous tech support stories that had nothing to do with either hot guys in elevators or vengeful spirits.

They all turned in early, not having talked much about Dean’s present circumstances or his future, which was fine by Sam. Ellen’s smile was strained when she showed them both up to Dean’s room, laden with stacks of towels, but Sam was just grateful not to have been exiled to a different part of the house.

The two of them changed into their sweats—sleeping in the nude was definitely not for family visits—and Sam read for a while, books the Ghostfacers site had suggested, while Dean tinkered with an old iPod. He had some idea of turning it into an EMF reader.

Right about when Sam was thinking about suggesting that they turn in for the night, there was a soft knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, Jo pushed the door open and leaned into the room, smiling big at Dean. “So,” she said. “Was dinner awkward enough for you?”

Dean snorted, and Sam took that as his cue to smile and nod as well, not that Jo was looking at him. She came in and leaned up against the door, locking it behind her. She was wearing a white tank top and baby blue boy shorts, and carrying a bottle of Jack. God had blessed the Smith family with two extremely attractive children this generation, Sam thought, trying very hard to keep his eyes above Jo’s neck.

“I say,” Jo announced, “that as your sister, I have a need to get to know Sam better.” She brandished the alcohol. “This’ll help.”

She hadn’t brought glasses, so they ended up passing the bottle around, Jo telling embarrassing stories from Dean’s childhood and Dean reciprocating. It wasn’t as tense as it had been in the car, like Jo was trying to bond with Sam, even if it was by showing how well she knew Dean and Sam really didn’t; it felt more like she was giving him useful information. Plus, once she was tipsy, her stories were pretty hilarious—Dean’s pretty face and his, let’s face it, somewhat self-centered attitude had apparently gotten him into a number of scrapes when they were growing up. Sam particularly liked the one with the teacher’s aide, the supply closet, and the visiting show choir.

“So tell me, big bro,” Jo said at last, showing her teeth, “what convinced you to cross the line?” Sam was leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, while she was crosslegged, her knee snugged against his thigh, and Dean perched on the end of the bed, watching them both with drunken amusement.

Dean took another swig. “Well,” he said, and there was something sharp in the way he looked back and forth between them, “I don’t like to brag, but. Let’s just say Sam’s real convincing when he wants to be.”

Jo leaned over and peered at Sam’s crotch. Sam was just tipsy enough that he smirked at her and spread his legs a little. Her thigh was warm against his.

“Hunh,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Do you share?”

Later, Sam would think that she’d never specified who she was asking, but in the moment, with all the blood rushing to his dick, it didn’t occur to him to wonder.

So that was how he found himself on his back, in a bed that threatened to collapse under their combined weight, while Dean slicked him up and rode his cock and Jo sat on his face. He couldn’t see much, just got the vague impression that Jo was squeezing her own breasts as she surged up and down. She was delicious—Sam really missed eating a girl out—and she made little choked-off noises that showed how much she was into it.

“Come on,” she urged, when they were all close; he could feel her fingers working alongside his tongue, and then Dean spattered all over Sam’s stomach and onto Jo’s back; he could feel the come dripping off of her skin and onto his chest, which was enough to bring him off too.

And _then_ Jo pulled herself up on her knees, hovering above him so that he was panting into the sweetness of her pussy, and said, “Are you gonna clean this mess up?”

Dean made a punched sound and raised off of Sam, still braced over him, and started licking his come off the skin of her back. When he was done with her, he dropped down (Jo moving to one side so that she could watch; out of the corner of his eye Sam saw her arm moving, still working herself) and did the same with the streaks and drips on Sam’s skin. Then he laid down on Sam, so hot and heavy that it was hard for Sam to breathe, and licked over every inch of Sam’s face, sucking off all the juices, holding Sam pinned with hands wrapped around Sam’s shoulders.

Sam probably should have been horrified, but he was too busy getting another incredibly insistent erection, humping incoherently up against Dean.

He was never sure how Jo pried Dean off of him, but all of a sudden she was the one on top, slick and thrilling around him. She set a fast rhythm, each bounce of her breasts draining more of Sam’s intelligence, until Dean’s hands came around her back to cup them, his darker fingers denting her pale flesh. Jo’s head was thrown back to rest on Dean’s shoulder, her whole body leaning back into him, while Dean stared down at Sam as if daring him to freak out. Dean’s weight rested on Sam’s legs, keeping him pinned, and when Sam came he had to muffle his scream against his own forearm.

He closed his eyes then, feeling the bed shake as they reconfigured themselves, and heard the soft sounds as Dean pulled his pants back on and Jo got herself dressed. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He wasn’t going to think. There were ghosts and demons in the world, and this was still almost inconceivable, like it hadn’t really happened.

“You’ve got him now,” Jo whispered in his ear just before she got up to sneak back to her own room. “But he’ll always be my brother.”

Sam thought about that line a lot, after he got his memories back.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] House of Yes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/377965) by [heardtheowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heardtheowl/pseuds/heardtheowl)




End file.
